


look up to the sky

by paperthinn



Series: seeley's favorites [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deaf Character, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Telepathy, Thought Projection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23997598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperthinn/pseuds/paperthinn
Summary: Draco Malfoy is deaf.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: seeley's favorites [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715506
Comments: 11
Kudos: 141





	look up to the sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CAIOLOGY](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CAIOLOGY/gifts).



> thanks to atlas for the prompt! i meant to finish this friday, but didn't — here it is! i actually really liked writing this one so :))
> 
> mind the notes at the bottom as always, please!

Draco Malfoy is deaf. His parents had spent countless hours trying to learn sign language so they might understand each other, but in the end magic was used for communication. That's how it's always been, and always will be. He tries not to let it get to him — sign language simply doesn't work for them. 

His teachers learned how to cast the simple spell they'd crafted wordlessly. They'd enhanced it enough that it lasted longer, until eventually a simple incantation was enough that Draco could get through the entire lecture without recasting. The spell was simple; it displayed the words they were speaking next to their head for only Draco to see. Navigating without his hearing was difficult, but he managed, as did his friends. He was born deaf after all, silence is all he's ever known. With the Dark Lord returning and his parents once again devoted themselves to him as death eaters, Draco found himself unable to keep up for a short time.

Lord Voldemort had never been considerate. Narcissa Malfoy, who cared more for her son than anyone else, had attempted to teach him the spell — the Dark Lord always seemed to forget Draco could not hear him, and got angry when the boy did not respond to his simple queries. Severus had to remind him each time, forcing himself to keep from flinching when a sickening laugh burst from Voldemort's mouth. He found Draco's disability hilarious. While everyone else cowered in fear, the youngest Malfoy sat perfectly still. The Dark Lord's laugh did not frighten him; all he could hear was silence.

This enraged Voldemort, of course, as everyone feared him. They bowed at his feet with a simple cruel word, they followed his orders, but when he ordered Draco Malfoy to bow — well, the command simply went unheard. Draco was the only man to ever remain standing even after seeing everyone else fall to their knees, and that in itself spoke volumes.

The two constants were the silence and, as strange as it sounds, Harry Potter. Draco had never heard someone speak before, had never even heard himself think before, but as he brushed down the halls at Hogwarts, there was suddenly _sound._ First silence, and then a sweet voice, foriegn and loud in Draco's head and in his broken ears. He stopped, startled, spinning on his heels in an attempt to pinpoint what he thought he'd heard.

Draco knew who Harry potter was — everyone did. His parents were killed in cold blood by Lord Voldemort, his friends were both loyal and, in Hermione Granger's case, smart. He was the only one ever known to survive the _Avada Kadavra_. Draco despises him. His father does too; Lucius hates his association with 'mudbloods' and 'blood traitors.' Narcissa hasn't said much in reference to the boy, being a mother herself, unwilling to look at any young child with the hatred her husband has.

Draco tried to imagine what his friends sounded like. What voices sounded like. What incantations and the bubbling of potions and heels clicking on the stone floor of Hogwarts sounded like. He hadn't in a million years expected _Harry Potter_ to sound like _that._ Draco knew who it was immediately. He'd talked to everyone else in the hall, or had seen them talking. Potter, however, he had not. It wasn't that Draco could _hear_ him, per say, it was more like sentences bouncing around in his suddenly not-so-soundless head that were all spoken by another person.

A few more sentences echoed in Draco's head and then he realized Potter _wasn't_ speaking. It seems the blonde had suddenly picked up on Harry Potter radio, the brunette's thoughts transferring right into Draco's skull. Alarmed, Draco walks off, and decides to skip his first class. There's really no reason for it, but he cries.

Severus Snape was the one professor who never forgot to cast Draco's spell. The others slipped up sometimes, never having dealt with a deaf student like Malfoy apparently, but never Snape. In fact, if it weren't for the old Potion's Professor, Draco would've been in deep trouble with the Dark Lord. Ruthless as he may be, Snape tries — he'd catch up with Draco after meetings and although he brushes off the 'absurd conclusion' that he cares, he'll make sure Draco knew everything Voldemort went over. 

It's a simple thing that Draco's picked up on; he always looks forward to potions. Snape paired him with Harry this time around, however, obviously hoping the Malfoy would do something to sabotage Potter's potion. Draco flinches when the sound of Harry's internal groan echoes loud in his head, straightening himself immediately in hopes he'll intimidate the brunette — Harry isn't intimidated easily. Draco slumps back down.

Harry looks disgusted at the pairing as he slides into the chair next to Draco, green eyes flashing over the blonde's face. Potter opens his mouth and his lips form around words as he says something, oblivious that Draco is deaf, and Draco scrunches his eyebrows in confusion. Almost every student in Hogwarts knew Draco was deaf; it got around during his first year. It's strange that Harry doesn't know. Nothing is said in Harry's thoughts, save a few random comments to himself about Malfoy's silence, and so the blonde has absolutely no clue what the boy just said.

"I can't hear you. I'm deaf, Potter," Draco says — speaking charms are always helpful here, heavily practiced ones that allow him to speak aloud clearly and without difficulty. Without them, Draco has no idea how he would get his own thoughts across. Sometimes he finds it difficult, and so he'll shorten sentences. Harry gapes at him, his mind radio silent, and they stare at each other for a few minutes. A few stray thoughts pass through Harry's head as the boy takes in this information. 

Draco knows when Harry's processed it, as the loudest sentence yet causes Draco to jump, almost knocking a few things over. That thought is, _what the hell am I supposed to do now?_ Draco has the idea that Harry's inner monologue is incredibly loud now that he's closer as well. Potter raises an eyebrow at him, one corner of his lips sliding up into a small smirk. Draco looks at the boy's lips, suddenly aware that his own are dry; he doesn't lick them. Harry's eyebrows slide together, then his eyes practically light up. _I think Luna Lovegood is hot._ Draco's face twists up in disgust and then Harry smiles, all shiny white teeth. 

_You can hear my thoughts._ Draco shrugs, taps his fingers absentmindedly on a crack in the table. How long had it been there? It feels strange under his touch. Draco wonders how Potter managed to figure it out so fast, being seemingly dim-witted. _Can you hear anybody else's?_ Draco shakes his head, a frown tugging at his lips. Harry's head tilts back and his mouth opens. Although Draco can't hear it, he knows — Harry's laughing. Draco wants to feel disgusted, but he doesn't, his lips twitching as he fights a smile. A very small part of Draco wishes he could hear just so he might have the chance to listen to the boy laugh, just once. He buries that thought.

"I've never heard anyone speak before. It scares me. Loud." Draco shrugs and Harry smiles again, amused at the situation. When he projects a thought again, it's softer, tolerable. 

_How do you get through classes?_ Harry questions, shifting so he's turned more toward the blonde. Draco thinks he sees Snape look at them a few times briefly, but he's not sure. It's not like he can hear the professor's thoughts — no, that's just Potter.

"Charm." Harry nods. They finish class like that; Draco forgets to ruin Potter's potion.

It's May 2nd, 1998 when the Dark Lord claims he's killed Harry Potter.

Severus Snape is dead. Some of Draco's friends are dead. He's standing with all the other Hogwarts students when Voldemort shouts that Harry Potter has died too. This is the only time he casts Draco's charm — he wants to be sure everyone understands they're doomed. He doesn't hear Professor McGonagall's cries of terror when she sees Hagrid carrying the boy's body in his arms, doesn't hear the agonizing yelling from everyone behind him. Draco feels lonely. He'd gotten along with Potter after their fifth year, being able to communicate with him better than others, and he's sure that he'll never hear anything again.

He sees his parents walking alongside the Death Eaters as they approach the castle, dust arising in his vision. Hogwarts is in ruins. Tears sting in his eyes and Draco fights them back, desperate in his knowing that the Dark Lord will soon call him forward. Harry is laid there, limp, chest completely still. Draco is completely and utterly devastated. 

In the complete silence he faces, Draco looks around at everyone who fought. They're dirty, bloodied by battle, some have their mouths open to yell out toward the apparent victor; there's a crushing echo in his head when he hears: _Draco._

His eyes flick back to Harry, who's laid there, suddenly very aware that amidst Hagrid's large, silent sobs that wrack his body, Potter's eyes are opened the smallest amount. A single thread of shock rolls through him and he steps forward. His parents wave to him; he hadn't realized the Dark Lord had been speaking. The words float close to Voldemort's head, but Draco ignores them. Everyone is watching him. There is complete silence.

Lucius beckons for his son; Narcissa is cowered in fear. She whimpers his name, knowing he cannot hear her. She will stand with her son no matter the choice he makes — Draco, too, knows this. Lucius will see him as a blood traitor. Voldemort looks at the blonde with cold, unforgiving eyes, knowing Malfoy saw the words he spoke.

_Go, Draco._

Harry's voice echoes in his head, a soft sound. Draco takes a step forward, sees his mother's body relax into a relieved sigh. There are murmurs around him now, Draco is aware, but he does not fret — he simply cannot hear them. He allows the Dark Lord to embrace him, happy the sounds of his sickening, shallow breaths do not reach his ears. 

There's a ringing when he joins his parents, clutches his mother's hand. He is the only one standing that knows Harry Potter still lives. _Thank you,_ Harry projects a thought, _Run._ There is a split second when Draco glances around, questioning the command, and then Harry tumbles out of Hagrid's arms.

It's May 2nd, 1998 when Draco Malfoy is set free. 

The mark branded into his arm will be there forever, and his ears are still rendered useless, but the Dark Lord is dead — Harry smiles a tired smile, looks at Draco from afar. Lucius tugs at his arm, and Draco walks, walks away from the crowd. He has a few short hours with his parents before they're taken away.

When those short hours end, and Draco is alone again, he walks out and stands in the very place the Dark Lord died. He looks up at the sky — the clear, brilliant sky — and has the sudden feeling he might cry. There's a hand on his shoulder, and then there's Harry Potter. 

_Thank you,_ Harry says, mouths the words with it, _for trusting me._ Draco nods, looks down at where he stands. His mother might live to see the day she's released from Azkaban. His father will not. Lucius Malfoy will die in prison, Draco knows, and he's not sure if he's glad.

 _Hey,_ Draco looks up and Harry smiles, _Can I kiss you?_ Draco's lips part and he nods, allows himself to be embraced. Together they stand in the very spot Lord Voldemort perished, and Harry kisses Draco, cradles his cheeks and brushes his thumbs over his jawline.

It's a beautiful day.

It's May 2nd, 2020 when Draco stands in the very place he stood twenty-two years before. He stands where Voldemort had stood in his final moments, where the Dark Lord fell to his knees and Harry Potter became victorious.

There is no noise when he looks around at Hogwarts, there never has been. Students are dismissed every year on the anniversary of the end of the second war. The school is blissfully empty, spare Headmistress McGonagall and a few other teachers. It's strange not seeing Severus Snape roaming about, Draco decides. The man lies in Godric's Hollow now, next to Lily Potter.

Lucius Malfoy had indeed died in Azkaban, and Narcissa Malfoy now lives peacefully in a small cottage after being released — she is slowed by age, but remains free from both Azkaban and the Dark Lord. When Draco had told her of his boyfriend, brought him to her house, she had held his face in her palms as a mother would her child and smiled gently at him.

"You look well," She had said to him, her words floating alongside her head for Draco to read. An embarrassed flush had spread over his face as he peered into Narcissa's eyes, muttering his thanks. "I have no doubt you'll treat Draco kindly. You are a good man, Harry Potter." Draco was glad to know she approved, although he knew she'd support him even if she didn't — the Malfoys had lived under authority of a Dark Lord for years; the last thing she'd want is for her son to feel just as trapped as they once had been.

 _Are you okay?_ Draco turns to face Harry, who now joins him in front of the old castle. Draco looks at the sky, sees it just as clear as it had been twenty-two years before. Sometimes he gets nightmares from his years as a Death Eater. Harry holds him then, shushes him in the darkness of the night. He is the only one Draco has ever heard. Draco looks to the brunette, feels the urge to cry, nods. Harry's arms slide around his waist, and Draco peers into the man's eyes, drags a thumb down the stubble that grows along his cheek.

Harry smiles his brilliant smile, a gentle hum resting in Draco's head. He slides his hands up, traces the infamous lightning bolt with a single finger, brushing back the messy hair from his lover's face so he can look at it clearly.

Draco Malfoy knows the scar hasn't pained Harry Potter for twenty-two years. All is well.

**Author's Note:**

> weeee
> 
> twitter; hotchnersmind  
> insta; paperthnn
> 
> thank you for reading !


End file.
